This last week has seen the passing of three notables from the world of art: Robert Hughes, Marvin Hamlisch, and Judith Crist. I liked them all, and I’ve linked to the obituaries in The New York Times.
Australian art critic and writer Robert Hughes died Monday at age 74 in the Bronx. One of the few art critics I could actually read without seething at their pretention or obfuscation, Hughes called them as he saw them, and didn’t pull his punches. His books taught me a lot about art, and I particularly shared his famous disdain for the odious Julian Schnabel, whose “art” I found execrable. (Schnabel redeemed himself somewhat by directing the wonderful movie, “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.”) Hughes is of course most famous for his television series (and later book) “The Shock of the New,” which I thought was very well done, and I loved his history of Australia, The Fatal Shore. The man is gone too soon, but had been badly injured in an auto accident in 1999.
Here are two of his quotes from the NYT quotes page:
On the art market, in Time magazine, 1989:
If there were only one copy of each book in the world, fought over by multimillionaires and investment trusts, what would happen to one’s sense of literature – the tissue of its meanings that sustain a common discourse? What strip mining is to nature, the art market has become to culture.
From The New Republic, 1987:
The unexamined life, said Socrates, is not worth living. The memoirs of Julian Schnabel, such as they are, remind one that the converse is also true. The unlived life is not worth examining.
*****
Songwriter Marvin Hamlish passed away Monday in Los Angeles. He was 68. As the NYT says:
He is one of a handful of artists to win every major creative prize, some of them numerous times, including an Oscar for “The Way We Were” (1973, shared with the lyricists Marilyn and Alan Bergman), a Grammy as best new artist (1974), and a Tony and a Pulitzer for “A Chorus Line” (1975, shared with the lyricist Edward Kleban, the director Michael Bennett and the book writers James Kirkwood Jr. and Nicholas Dante).
All told, he won three Oscars, four Emmys and four Grammys. His omnipresence on awards and talk shows made him one of the last in a line of celebrity composers that included Henry Mancini, Burt Bacharach and Stephen Sondheim. Mr. Hamlisch, bespectacled and somewhat gawky, could often appear to be the stereotypical music school nerd — in fact, at 7 he was the youngest student to be accepted to the Juilliard School at the time — but his appearance belied his intelligence and ability to banter easily with the likes of Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin. His melodies were sure-footed and sometimes swashbuckling. “One,” from “A Chorus Line,” with its punchy, brassy lines, distills the essence of the Broadway showstopper.
“The Way We Were” is a schlocky movie which I loved (Redford [Hubbell] and Streisand [Katie] were an improbable couple, but the farewell scene in front of the Plaza Hotel always chokes me up). Hamlish’s song always reminds me of that finale, when the once-smitten pair exchange a few poignant last words before Streisand, still the radical, joins a demonstration.
Your girl is lovely, Hubbell.
Bring her for a drink when you come.
I can’t come, Katie. I can’t.
I know.
How is she?
She is just beautiful. You would be so proud of her.
I’m glad. Is he a good father?
Yes. Very.
Good.
See you, Katie.
See you, Hubbell.
Ban the bomb!
*****
Judith Crist died yesterday in Manhattan at age 90. She was a prolific movie critic who reviewed in several places, including the New York Herald Tribune, New York Magazine (where I read her), and the television show Today. While I didn’t fancy her reviews as much as I did those of her contemporary Pauline Kael, I liked her (i.e., her opinions agreed with mine). From the NYT obit:
Her zingers could be withering. In March 1965, she panned three major releases in a single “Today” appearance: “The Greatest Story Ever Told” (“A kind of dime-store holy picture”), “Lord Jim” (“A lot of heavy five-cent philosophy”) and “The Sound of Music” (“Icky-sticky”).
Reviewing Anne Bancroft’s performance as a troubled wife in the 1964 film “The Pumpkin Eater,” Ms. Crist wrote in The Herald Tribune, “She seems a cowlike creature with no aspirations or intellect above her pelvis.” Of “The Sound of Music,” a box-office smash in 1965 and one of the most popular films of all time, she said, “The movie is for the 5-to-7 set and their mommies who think the kids aren’t up to the stinging sophistication and biting wit of ‘Mary Poppins.’ ”
Hamlish was 68 not 74.
Whoops, used Hughes’s age by mistake. Fixed, thanks.
I used to watch enthralled at ‘The Shock of the New’. I was completely ignorant of modern art, (still am – anything I do know I learned from him) but he made it fascinating.
What the heck did Judith Crist have against Mary Poppins? The authenticity of Dick van Dyke’s cockney accent… his sheer mastery never ceases to amaze me. And the timeless themes throughout… don’t get me started. Time to watch me some Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang now. (fetches a glass of fine Andre)
It is “The Sound Of Music” that she is trashing, not “Mary Poppins”. I rather like her comment. But, then again, I don’t care for “The Sound Of Music” at all and think “Mary Poppins” is a classic that I look forward to sharing with my children.
The thing about “The Sound of Music” is that you’re relaxing on the couch, channel surfing because you’re just too tired to read–this would be around Thanksgiving or Christmas–when boom, there it is, “The Sound of Music”. You’ll keep going, channel surfing more, as soon as this song you know every word to is over.
I read it as Judith trashing both. Rather slyly too, I might add.
I think you are probably right. I really appreciate sarcasm done so well. Reminds me a bit of Hitchens.
I’m sorry to hear that Robert Hughes is dead. I expect he was a difficult man but I loved his work.
One of the stars of The Sound of Music, Christopher Plummer, has often spoken ill of it, referring to it as “The Sound of Mucus”. It’s awfully sentimental, but actually….the stage version is much much worse!!
Though I lack competence to critique Julian Schnabel’s paintings (on the basis that, while I know a shitload about art, I just don’t know what I like), I wholeheartedly agree with Jerry regarding the excellence of Schnabel’s movie The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” as well as his outstanding earlier films: Basquiat and Before Night Falls — the latter of which introduced the world to eminent actor, and our non-believing confrère, Javier Bardem. For that, at least on my set of books, Schnabel earns a pass for his artwork, even accepting that it is as execrable as the late Mr. Robert Hughes asserted.